British Fondue
by Boys-R-US
Summary: Short bit on England and France's early relationship. No history. Sex. A bit of drama... Please enjoy.
1. Fondue

Here's a story for my wonderful friend, Natigating Reality, because we just love England and France, though I love England more than France. Anywho, here's the story... hope you enjoy. ~Jack

* * *

England hated United Nations meetings. He hated the way younger nations fought, especially the way America fought with everyone, and he hated how absolutely nothing was accomplished by these "mandatory" meetings. Sighing, England placed his chin in his palm, the subtle movement gaining attention from an old acquaintance.

"Bored, _Angleterre_?" France asked, his blue eyes clearly amused.

"What do you care, frog?" England demanded, green eyes closing as he turned away in annoyance.

"I am shocked, _Angleterre,_" France replied, "Have we not known each other for so long, that we cannot be friends?"

"Why would I be friends with you?" England asked. His eyes were now open, and glaring at the Frenchman.

"Why must you take your stress on _moi_?" France asked, "I'm only being friendly."

England scoffed and ignored the taller man. He half listened to the conversations going on. Slightly distracted for a second when he suddenly heard the Frenchie next to him speak. After the meeting, England visited a local bar. Since the meeting was held in Paris, he didn't have to search too hard. His first glass was hard to get down, but he was soon throwing back shots like he was a hardcore alcoholic.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone who looked extremely like France next to him. England ignored the man until he heard. "Barely an hour after ze meeting, and you are drowning yourself in rum?" France asked.

England's face turned bright with embarrassment. "You git!" he yelled, "Why the 'ell are ya followin' me?" England slammed his hand against the counter, accidentally spilling his drink. He wasn't totally drunk, but his senses were still buzzed.

"_Angleterre_," France called, "Perhaps you need, ah, a pick-me-up?"

"I don't want your drugs!" England retorted, mentally noting that anything France had on him was probably for sex.

"Who said it was drugs, _mon cher_?" France's smile hinted the slight lust in his voice. Yes, the man had wanted this slightly smaller nation all to himself. He had been waiting for this chance for years.

"Pervert," England scoffed, the blush on his reddened face deepening. France moved to swing his arm over England's shoulders.

"I can tell you have not seen much action in centuries," France whispered into the dirty blonde's ear.

"Like you've 'ad any either!" England slurred. France grabbed England's hand and dragged him from the pub. England protested until France shoved him into a waiting cab. Huffed and angry England sat quiet in the cab as it sped toward France's home.

Once there, France fed England a few chocolates laden with rum. England, once slightly buzzed, couldn't resist chocolate. Now he was really drunk. France pulled England to the bed and stripped him.

"More…" England moaned, "More…cocoa…" France left the drunken man on the bed and went to his kitchen. He grasped some whipped cream and various small fruits from his refrigerator. Then he grabbed some chocolate sauce and stuck it into his microwave for a few seconds. He gathered everything up and went back to his inebriated Brit.

Stark naked and spread out on France's bed, England was panting hard, aroused by the tingling sensation of being drunk and naked on a cool night. Suddenly a thick, hot liquid dripped onto his chest. England gasped at the contact, and opened his tired eyes. A tickle of warm chocolate was raining down on him from a can that France held in his hand. With the free hand, France scooped some chocolate off of the smaller nation's chest with a strawberry. He held the fruit against England's lips until the man opened them.

As England chewed on the strawberry, he felt the warmed chocolate sliding down his torso. France deliberately dropped the sauce onto England's hardened erection. England gulped the strawberry down, and gasped, pushing his head into the pillows. France let the chocolate sauce drip down onto the sheets, before he pulled the can back up to cover more of England's chest. When France had finished, he began placing various small fruits onto the other's chocolaty body.

France climbed on top of England, and started lapping the chocolate off of his chest. He found a small cherry and took it between his teeth. His pressed his lips to England's and their tongues twirled around the cherry. Until France popped it, inside of England's mouth. France continued to tease the smaller man's chest, not only licking up the chocolate, but paying extra close attention to England's sensitive nipples.

"Fra-France!" England cried, "L-lower!"

"Lower?" France taunted the man, one hand twisting his reddened right nipple, "Where exactly, _mon cheri_?"

England glared at the taller man. "You know where!" he retorted.

France smirked. "You mean, here?" France's tongue swirled around England's navel, tickling the sensitive, chocolate covered stomach.

"No! – Ah – Lower…" England gasped. His back arched into the feeling of that skillful tongue as it traveled down to his waistline. France's fingers stroked England's hard cock, the slippery chocolate creating an artificial lube. As France's warm mouth engulfed the swollen organ, his fingers began playing with England's hole. He carefully inserted a finger, and wiggled it a little, to make sure his partner felt no pain.

England watched with glazed eyes, his fingers curling into France's hair. The slight stubble on the Frenchman's chin rubbed against England's shaft and testies as France's head bobbed up and down.

"St-stop!" England moaned, his eyes closing. France chuckled, the vibrations from his throat connecting to England's cock, making the smaller nation shiver. France pulled away from the man's erection.

"Are you about to cum?" he asked, "We haven't even reached the best part." To emphasize his point, France inserted a second finger into England's ass and made a scissoring motion, stretching the man's hole more. England cringed, but the pain wasted away quickly. France added another finger and stretched England's bum further.

"H-hurry!" England moaned, "I can't – ah – take much more!"

France positioned his own hard organ at England's small entrance. He pushed in, until just the head was inside. England moaned as France slowly pushed in deeper until England's ass hit the Frenchman's groin and testicles. England reached down and frantically began stroking his throbbing erection.

"No, no, _Angleterre_," France grasped the Brit's hand. "Leave that to me." France pulled out of England and slammed back into him. Their rhythm was slow, almost painful, at first, but France gradually picked up speed. He held England's hips in place, and slammed into him, reaching deep inside of his ass.

Suddenly, France grasped England's shoulders and pulled him into a sitting position. They moved faster as England locked his arms around the Frenchman's neck. France held his drunken companion close, so he would not fall over. Their lips connected in a desperate, heated kiss. England broke the kiss for air, and stared into France's blue eyes.

"France… I can't – I can't hold back," He whined.

"Just a bit longer," France replied, "We'll cum together."

The thrusts became shorter and more frantic. France held England's moans in as they kissed, tongues intertwining. England broke the kiss again and tossed his head back. His moaned loudly, his vision clouding, as his seed squirted out, covering is slightly chocolaty torso. France thrusted in once more, before releasing his own cum deep inside England's tight, warm recesses.

France released the small nation, and let him fall to the bed. England moaned as the Frenchman pulled out of him. France lay down next to the exhausted Brit, and kissed his forehead. The dirty blond, island nation was already moments away from sleep. Smiling, France took England into his arms, and held him close. "_Bonsoir, Angleterre_."


	2. Je t'aime

Hello~! Second part. This story was requested by my good friend Navigating Reality, who supports France/England. Though I tolerate this shipping, I do not enjoy it. I'm more into England/America, just cause I can be. Well, anywho, hope you all enjoy, espescially you N.R. ~Jack

* * *

England shivered at the feel of France's hand against his hot crotch. "Fr-France..." He leaned back into the wall for support, the front of his body melting with the other's. How long had they been here? The break was only 30 minutes long; what if someone noticed their abscence and got suspicious? France's fingers unhooked the island nation's belt, and dove into his underpants. England moaned again and was about plead with the other nation, whent he heard the restroom door squeak open. France's fingers stopped moving, and the two held their breath. They stood motionless in the handicapped stall of the U.N. Building's bathroom. Suddenly, England felt France's fingers began to move again. He bit his lower lip and tried to push the taller nation's hands away. "N-no," he whispered, "They'll 'ear!"

"Zey'll only hear," France said, thrusting his knee against England's crotch, "If you moan too loudly."

"I'll moan loudly if you don't get yer bloody 'ands off me!" England growled. France only smirked and pressed on England's groin with more force.

"You son of a- AH!" England gasped as France wrenched his hand from his underwear.

"Until later, mon cheri!" France whispered into the smaller nation's ear. Then, he left England in the bathroom stall. England slid against the wall, stunned. How could the frog just leave him hear? had he done something to anger that French prick? England put his face in his hands and leaned his head back. What was going on?

* * *

When England returned to his home, he was greeted by its emptiness. He trudged to the kitchen and grabbed himself the few beers he'd stashed in the fridge. He had been in a foul mood since he left the UN, and thinking about what had happened in the bathroom made his head ache all the worse. _Enough, _he thought. England raised the first can to his lips. _I'm done thinking._ The first few drinks were quickly downed, and England wandered around his mansion, with the rest of the beers in tote. He mumbled a few songs and stumbled up the stiars to his room. Once there he whipped out his cell phone and stared blindly into the bright screen. "Fu-ran-ceee..." he groaned.

England undressed himself and crawled onto the bed. He half conciously dialed France's phone number. _"Angleterre?" _France answered,_ "What iz zhe meaning of zhis? Calling me so late?"_

"Ba-bastard!" England mumbled into the phone. "Yer such a... froggy bastard!"

_"I do not understand,"_ France said, _"Whay am I zhe bastard?"_

"You just are!" England hollered. "You... you left me in that bathroom like a whore! I hate you!" Tears began to fall from England's eyes.

_"Mon cher, zhat waz only a little teazing."_

"Yer an asshole!" England cried, "Yer... yer... What is it? What did I do? Why did you leave me like that?"

_"You mizunderstand, Angleterre," _France replied, _"I never meant to hurt you, no, no. Az I said, I waz just teazing." _

"I want to see you," England whispered, his sniffles dying, "Please."

_"Of course, mon petit lapin," _France whispered into the receiver, _"I'll be there right away. Je t'aime." _France hung up. England layed back against his bed sheets and closed his cell phone.

He waited in the dark, sipping the last of his beer. France arrived sometime later, pushing open the bedroom door, and climbing on top of England, bringing him out of his drunken coma. "Wha-?" England was dazed for a moment.

"Look at zhe mess you have made of yourself." France whispered. He took a deep breath and went on, "I suppose it iz my fault. I made you cry after all."

"Damn right, it's yer fault, wanker!" England growled, "You made me feel awful!" Tears streamed down the smaller nation's face once again.

"Mon petit lapin," France cooed, "No more tears." He gently wiped England's eyes, and kissed him. England's face turned red with embarrassment. He squirmed under France.

"France... please..." England moaned.

"Of course." France palemed England's groin waiting for it to hardened. England threw his head back into the pillows of his bed and moaned. The alcohol in his system acted like a natural aphrodisiac. France slowly removed the isalnd nation's shirt, tickling his nipples as the clothing was removed. England's body shuttered in pleasure. His squeezed his eyes shut, trying to keep in more tears.

France, opened England's pants and removed them, but he left the dirty blonde's boxers on. He then removed his own shirt. England's eye reopened and he stared at the Frenchman's physic. France's fingers traveled over England's chest, and his tongue shortly followed. England shook and bit into his index finger, trying to hold in those damn embarrassing moans. France, grasped England's wrists and held them above the nation's head.

"Don't stifle your moans, Angleterre," he said, "I want to hear zhem." France ground their hips together, making the island nation gasp and cry out.

"Please, France!" England pleaded, "Hurry. I need you..." He stared up at France, eroctic blush on his cheeks and lust in his emerald eyes.

France felt his own face heat up. "How can I refuze a request like zhat?" he asked himself out loud.

He pulled down England's boxers, and opened the front of his own slacks, freeing himself. He teased the smaller nation for a bit, rubbing the erections together with a painfully slow motion. His fingers dove into the Brit's bum, stretching and probing the warm hole. Satisfied with his work, France removed his fingers and thrust his entire member into England. The island cried out in pleasure, the tears falling again. France pulled out slowly, but slammed back in with increasing force each time. France brought their bodies close, and allowed England's finger to tangle themselves into his hair.

"France!" England moaned, "More." France obligied his quickening thrusts pushing in deeper and moved together on the bed, their pace increasing, forcing the spring matteress to creak under them. "Fran... ce," England panted, "I'm gonna... cum!"

"Togezher," France replied, "Let uz come togezher." Their movements became blunt and hurried. England dug his fingernails into France's back and cried out as orgasm ripped through his body. His juices splashed out over his stomach and spasms racked him for some time. Meanwhile, France had burried himself deep within England's tight arse and released his own load. As the two came down from their high, and Fracne gently slid himself out of the smaller nation, they curled up into each other's arms. England's previous state of drunkeness was sobbered by the sex, but he contently curled himself around the other man.

"Je t'aime, Angleterre," France whispered.

England grunted and rolled over so that he faced the open room. "Keep your disgusting french fetishes to yourself," he grumbled.

France could only smile. "Zhat is zhe England I love."

~End


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